Paper plates and plastic forks
by Writer of souls
Summary: In another dimension, Castiel E. Potestas dreams of a man he has never met. He might have fallen in love with him along the way. He just fills out paperwork for a faceless boss that he met once, a very long time ago, his life doesn't DO exciting. (Happy ending.)
1. Chapter 1

Some nights, he dreams.

He dreams of a man with amazing green eyes, a smattering of freckles, and a gun in his hands. He dreams of a large black car, old but still running and still called a home.

There's another man, but he doesn't dream of him. Not nearly as often, anyways.

The man with the freckles has been to Hell, and Heaven, and both times, he knew exactly where he was and how he got there. He remembers wrapping a hand around his bicep and clutching his skin.

No, he doesn't remember. He dreamed it.

This is the real world.

There are no Winchesters. There are no Angels, or Demons, there's just the same old boring desk job that he's been stuck in for a couple of years now.

He's not an Angel of the Lord, he's just Castiel Edward Potestas. He works for a small company, filling out paperwork and trying to follow the rules. He's been there for nearly five years now. He's only thirty, but he feels ancient because he has let his posture go where there is no one to witness it.

When there's a birthday in the office, for a woman named Martha Hendricks, he gets a paper plate with a sliver of cake on it, and a plastic fork shoved in the top, nearly bigger than the morsel of sugar and cheap flour.

He goes to talk to Dean, gets as far as turning towards him to ask him how much he hates this, before he realizes that the man is just a figment of his dreams.

After that, he throws the plate away, cake still perfectly intact and fork shoved through the flimsy paper.

He returns to his desk, restraining himself from sobbing at the thought of even more data entry and paperwork. Never ending paperwork and faceless bosses who have been going on firing sprees lately and he could get the axe anyday now and somehow he just doesn't give a shit.

He'd give anything to be travelling with Dean Winchester, the man in his head who he may have just completely fallen in love with.

He'd rather be crazy and lost than stuck in his tiny half-cubicle anymore.

He rubs at his forehead, trying to rub away a headache that's still forming despite his best efforts. He'd rather just be at home, unemployed and trying to find proof of a world beyond the normal, of any possibility that Dean might actually exist.

He doesn't feel like he owns himself anymore, doesn't feel like there's anything left of himself that is his.

It all feels like it belongs to a man he's never met and will never meet.

For a moment, he looks at his desk, then across the aisle to his coworker, Zach. Technically, the man is his superior, but he doesn't act like it. Always insisting that Castiel call him a friend, insisting that if Castiel needs someone to call when he needs help, it be him.

He hasn't really ever taken the man up on his offer.

But now, he stands, jolting his chair back a few feet with the backs of his knees. He knows it'll probably bruise, but he doesn't care.

He strides over to Zach's desk, leaning over the edge, the stupid red tie that they make him wear as work clothes dangling precariously close to the older mans coffee.

"I quit."

The words are out of his mouth before he can think them over, but the moment they're said, he knows that it was the right thing to say.

Zach looks startled, mouth gaping. Then it closes, the man shrugs, and nods. "I was wondering when you would." he gave a terse smile "You've had the look about you for months now."

Castiel wants to ask what look, but he stays silent and nods.

An hour later, Zach has the proper paperwork for him. Hopefully, it's the last of the paperwork that he'll ever need to fill out for this company.

He's allowed to go home early, his stuff in a neat little box in his arms, his trenchcoat, a gift from his brother for Christmas two years ago, around his shoulders.

It flaps almost like wings in the strong breeze running through the city, and he stops for a moment, heedless of the people passing him by as he adjusts it, tries not to lose it.

He feels someone smack into his shoulder, and he nearly falls, but he can't fall because there's an hand around his left upper arm and the man the hand is attached to is someone he recognizes.

They've never met, but he knows instantly who that man is.

Vivid green eyes widen as they take his face in, and then a smile is forming and he's dragged into a standing position.

"Your name's Castiel, right?"

He can't breathe, his chest is too tight, and it's all he can do to not sigh happily. "You're Dean."

"Winchester."

"Potestas."

Dean's nose wrinkles, a chuckle slipping out from between the beautifully formed lips. "It sounds so friggen' weird for you to have a last name."

Castiel laughs with him, and suddenly everything inside him feels whole, the lonely empty spaces filled in.


	2. Chapter 2

At night he dreams of blue eyes.

He dreams of blue eyes, cheeks lined with stubble, and a dirty trenchcoat, far too large for the frame it's wrapped awkwardly around.

It's getting to be an issue.

He works at his dad's shop, fixing cars with his uncle Bobby, and his dad watches over everything and makes sure that the shipments of parts come in on time and his mom waits at home for all of them, every Friday, for a family dinner. Sam comes home from college every couple of weeks, brings his girl Jessica with him.

Jessica is sweet, and sexy, and a lovely person, with a great smile.

But he doesn't dream of her.

It's not her that he sees when he falls asleep, and from his bed in a small house in Siox Falls, he dreams of a man with intense blue eyes, wide and focused on him.

That intensity sometimes gets translated into a different kind of dream, but more often he dreams of them fighting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, a gun in his hands, a blade of some kind in his.

But in the morning, Dean rolls over and there's no angel watching over him from a chair. There's no chair pulled up next to him, and his back isn't sore from spending his entire life on Motel beds.

When he arrives, the next Friday, at his mom's house, She pulls him off to the side to talk to him. She rests a hand on his cheek, smiles softly at him, and asks what's wrong.

She always knows that something is wrong with him before he breaks down and tells anyone.

He sighs, grabs a beer from the fridge and sits down when she drags him to a chair. It's either sit when she tells you to, or be pushed into a chair and held onto like a squirming baby.

"I've been having weird dreams lately."

He meets her eyes, remembering for a second the dreams he had where she had died.

"And they've kind of been...Beyond strange. Friggen' Angels and Demons and you and dad were dead. Sammy dropped out of college to hunt monsters with me, because I asked him to, and Jess died."

She looks at him with wide eyes, just for a second, then gesturing for him to continue.

He tells her the whole story. All the crap that he went through in his dreams, everything that had happened to him in them.

"Well..." she smiled, then started making coffee. "Sounds like something you might want to write, maybe publish a book."

He chuckled, nearly getting beer in his sinuses.

"One question, Honey."

He nodded, wiping at his mouth, wiping away a few droplets of beer.

"What was the Angel's name?"

He looked at his hands, twirling the beer bottle between them, then looked at the floor. "I called him Cas. Short for Castiel."

She smiled. "See if you can find him. Can't be too many Castiel's in any phonebook in the U.S. Try finding him and talking to him. It might just be God tryin' to talk to you."

X

His Uncle Bobby, had a few connections that stretched fairly far. Bobby's partner, Richard, had ones that stretched even further.

They'd found one Castiel E. Potestas, living and working in Illinois.

It had taken them both, together, a week, and he took a few days off. Packed up his stuff, shoved it all in the Impala his dad had passed over to him when he turned fifteen. When he opened the trunk, there was a disoriented moment where his brain tried to fill in the blank space with guns, and crosses and knives. Holy water jugs and bits of other things, jammed in around containers of gasoline and a box of lighters. He blinked, and it went away.

He shook his head, then started driving.

There was a chance that it wasn't him. Castiel had been an Angel in a human vessel, it was likely that he wasn't actually real.

Just that thought, that the man didn't exist, made his entire gut clench up and he felt like someone was ripping through it with claws.

He had to.

"Might go friggen' crazy if he doesn't." he muttered to himself.

X

He was wandering around the city, and there was no way he was going to find the guy. He didn't know work schedule, he didn't know if the buildings he was hanging around were the right ones.

He bumped into someone, and the manners his mom had smacked into his head reacted before he could even really think. He grabbed the other person, feeling them start to fall and he righted them before they could.

Next thing was, he grabbed the box from the man and made sure that nothing fell out of it.

An arm still around the guys arm and the other hand helping to steady the box he was just about to drop, he noticed a jacket, fluttering around the guy's shoulders.

And then he saw his face.

Well, actually, the first thing he saw was the eyes. The man had amazing blue eyes and they looked startled, surprised, and strangely pleased to see him.

His human bundle is still slouched over, still in his arms, and he knows the face that's looking at him.

He smiles, pulling him into a standing position and making sure that he's alright.

His mouth is moving, and he hears himself asking if this man is Castiel, but he doesn't need to be told that. Everything in this man is familiar to him, from the messy hair that wouldn't lay flat even under the force of water and gel, to the coat flapping softly and loose around his shoulders.

And then he hears what Castiel is saying, hears the words 'You're Dean.' coming from between the beautiful lips, and he nods.

"Winchester."

Castiel, his Castiel, his Angel and the one who saved him, tells him that he has a last name here, that beyond the world of dreams, there's something that ties him to this world.

"It sounds so friggen' weird for you to have a last name."

And then they're laughing and Dean can't help but cling to the man still standing in his arms and he isn't going to let go. He can't, not unless he wants to wake up and find out that this isn't the real world and all he's really doing now is dreaming.

He doesn't want to wake up and find that the world he lives in is the dream, and the monsters and Demons and Angels are real.

"I should probably..."

Castiel looks down, seemingly noticing for the first time that they're still holding each other and he blushes, the color spreading to the tips of his ears and making him look brightly colored and even more beautiful.

Dean steps back, only enough to put an inch between them and allow the other man to have a bubble and allow him to breathe.

"I just quit my job, I think it was so I could go find you."

Dean's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "I feel special. You quit your job so you could find me?"

Castiel blushed even more, breath coming out hitched and Dean thinks for half a second of the other kinds of dreams he has had of this man.

"I've been...Dreaming about you for a long time now. A couple of years have me at your mercy."

He covered his mouth, eyes wide.

Dean laughed and took the box from him. "How about we go get some food? Talk there, get to know each other."

Castiel nodded, still blushing. "I think I'd like that."

The smaller man pulled his trenchcoat around himself tighter, walking at Dean's side.

Dean couldn't help but smile and grab the sleeve that was hanging closest to him.


	3. Chapter 3

It isn't until he starts having the random ass dreams that Bobby notices something's up with his partner.

They aren't boyfriends. Richard had asked not to be called that, wincing and stuttering in the way that he did. He'd said that it sounded too immature and odd, and despite how flamboyant and well dressed he was, he would never stoop to be called a word that he associated with a twink.

Bobby had laughed at him, then rolled his eyes and cuffed him across the shoulder.

Richard had smiled, sipping at his scotch.

His partner was a literary agent, from New York, and he had moved to Sioux Falls to find a new start and possibly start his own publishing house. They'd met when they'd run into each other at the store, literally. Bobby had been arguing with his almost nephew and hadn't seen the other cart.

Richard had been on his phone.

At first, they hadn't liked each other, and the death of his wife was still too fresh of a wound for Bobby to be alright with the thought of dating anyone yet. Richard with his dark eyes and hair and his impeccable suits and his large black dogs that would snarl at anyone who got too close to them.

Bobby had hated the entire group at first. Couldn't stand the man, couldn't stand the dogs, couldn't deal with any of it.

The British accent was eventually what swayed him. The man had been transplanted fairly far from home, and Bobby could tell that it made him uneasy. After a month or so of finding each other in the most random of places, he had apologized for the grocery store incident.

Richard had been nice about it, and from there, they had become friends, neighbors, and eventually, lovers.

And then the dreams had started.

Sometimes he would be in a room, sitting in a wheelchair, and there would be Richard, except it wasn't Richard.

He called himself Crowley.

It was more than a little troubling to see the man you'd been in love with for nearly twenty years looking at you like you were nothing more than a piece of crap on his shoe.

The dream-world-Richard, Crowley as he was calling himself, was terrifying in most respects. Especially when it turned out that he bought and sold souls. He called himself the King of the Crossroads, and when he smiled, it felt like he was draining the room of air. In the dreams, Bobby had made a deal with him.

He'd sold his soul to be able to walk again.

The deal was sealed with a kiss, and Crowley took a picture and it seemed like his lover was the same in both worlds because the demon Crowley had used tongue and Richard would have done the same thing.

When he'd told the younger man about that, Richard had stared at him like he had seen a ghost.

Apparently, they were both having the same dreams.

When Dean popped up with his questions, looking for a man named Castiel, Richard had contacted everyone he knew while Bobby did the same.

And one night, when they were getting ready for bed, Richard in his black and red pajamas, Bobby in his boxers and t-shirt, he had turned to his partner and looked at him solemnly.

"Robert?"

Bobby turned to the man and waited, pulling his reading glasses off of his nose. It might take a moment, but Richard always finished asking a question once he started. It took a bit of fidgeting, but eventually the other man met his eyes and continued,

"Do you prefer dream-world me?"

Nearly choking on his own tongue, Bobby set his book down and dragged the other man in close, an arm around his waist and the other hand settling in his hair.

"Never." he whispered, tracing the line of Richard's temple. "I prefer you just the way you are."

He felt him relax, almost melting in his arms and he just couldn't resist.

"But if you wear your ridiculous suits into the scrapyard again, I'm going to burn every last one, idjit."

Richard started laughing at that, a full throated chuckle and he leaned against Bobby's chest. All thoughts of black eyed demons and soul selling went out of his head as he studied the face of his lover.

He definitely prefered the man in his arms to the demon in his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XX

Alright, so people have ben asking for an explanation. Not many people, but hey, I'll answer the question anyways.

This was a thought that occured to me. There's a universe where the actual Winchester brothers got sent to, and their lives were a television show. I started thinking about what possibilities that presented, and realized that there had to be more universes like that. Makes sense, right?

Thus, the "Otherwise, Backwards, and Strange" verse was born.

The story you just read is actually Crobby. The name of Crowley as a human makes this 'Verse a slight crossover with the TV show "Leverage". In that show, Mark Sheppard plays an insurance agent named James "Jim" Sterling. In my headcannon, Jim Sterling has a twin named Richard who went missing.

And that's just original Supernatural.

This story was just meant to be Dean and Castiel finding each other, no matter what universe, dimension, or species they are. Clearly, it's no longer just them.

In closing, before this note is longer than this chapter, I just wanted to say that I hope you enjoy the OWBS!Verse.


	4. Chapter 4

It happened when Castiel and Dean had been together for almost a year.

Mary Winchester had invited Castiel and his older brother over for dinner one night, a weekend when Sam and Jessica would be there. Castiel had been surprised, but he agreed that it might be fun for the entire family to meet what was left of his.

And so, Gabriel came into town.

Despite Mary's protests, he booked a room in a local hotel, and no one saw him until the time came for them to all eat together. Sam nearly dropped his plate on the floor when the older man walked into the room, and Dean gave him a look.

The man that had just walked into the room was Gabriel Potestas, but both of the Winchester brothers recognized him as Gabriel the Archangel, also self-named Loki.

Dean took in the suddenly uncomfortable look on his face and felt his anger seeping away from him, like sand through his fingers.

It seemed like Gabriel knew who they were too.

When Mary hustled over and wrapped the man in a warm hug, then dragged him to the table to sit next to his brother, everyone in the room became a little less tense. Dean felt brave enough to lean around his boyfriend and talk to what was almost essentially his brother-in-law.

Gabriel became less worried after that, speaking to everyone in the room. He was funny, he was sarcastic, and he was a little strange, but they had gotten used to that with Castiel. He talked to Mary about the garden she had outside, and the lovingly restored cars with Bobby, Dean and John. He joked with Jessica about the world of fashion and they got into a discussion about law degrees versus any other type of degree. He praised Mary's cooking and he teased his brother.

In short, he fit in with everyone in the house, except Sam.

No matter how much he tried, Sam couldn't get the other man to look at him, much less talk to him.

Which was how they were here now, Dean having trapped Gabriel in a hallway with him. Arms crossed over his chest and face set in a frown, Dean knew he must be looking more than a little intimidating.

"So why are you avoiding talking to my little brother? Did you guys have an arguement in the five seconds he managed to get you to talk to him?"

Gabriel looked ashamed, eyes focusing on a spot just over Dean's left shoulder. "No." biting his bottom lip and running a hand through his hair, Gabriel sighed. "I just...I've seen him before."

"What, like a one night stand or something?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

Gabriel laughed, sounding almost bitter. "No. Hell No. Kiddo's been in a few of my dreams lately, and I hadn't even met him before tonight. Sounds crazy, but I-"

"-Have been having weird dreams of a life that isn't yours." Dean finished for him, eyes going wide now. "Like...'You saved his ass from Lucifer' kind of dreams."

Gabriel was meeting his eyes now, disbelief, anger and a small amount of fear rushing through his eyes. "How did you know?"

Dean hesitated, licking his suddenly dry lips. "Because that's how I met Cas."

The other man looking at him like he was crazy, Dean sighed. "I kept having these dreams about this amazing guy, blue eyes and dark hair. Trench coat that was too friggen' big for him. I kept seeing him fighting at my side. There was a handprint on my shoulder because he dragged my ass out of Hell."

"The righteous man who spilled blood in Hell." Gabriel whispered. "I had dreams where I heard whispers about him, but I never...Never saw who it was."

Dean winced. "What the Hell is going on?"

A door slammed upstairs, and they both heard Jessica's voice, the vent above Dean's head acting like a speaker.

"-am, I was willing to share you with him when he was just something in your head. I could do that. I could deal with him being in your head as long as you were mine. I think-"

"Jess-"

"No, Sam."

She didn't sound angry, and Dean guessed that Sam must have been the one to slam the door.

"Jess..."

"Sam. I love you. You know I do." she must have hugged his brother or something, because now her voice was muffled. "But we both know that you don't love me nearly as much as you love the man who walked into this house tonight."

"I..." Sam seemed to be struggling for words. "I do love you."

When she spoke again, Jessica's voice was coming from further away. "I know you do. But if you love me more than you love the dream guy who gave up his life to save yours, come with me to the roof."

Seconds passed, then a few minutes. Dean was sure his brother had followed his girlfriend, but then Jessica started talking again.

"See? I'll still be your absolute best friend, Sam. I'm just not the on you're in love with."

A door opened somewhere above them, then shut quietly. Dean chanced a glance at Gabriel. The shorter man was looking up at the ceiling like he was entranced, and his eyes were wide. His hands were braced against the wall, and his entire posture spoke of a man who had been saved from a Hell of his own making.

"Gabriel?"

The golden-brown eyes swiveled towards him, and he nearly choked. The man in front of him was human, but in that moment, Dean would swear that he was looking at the Archangel from the world of his dreams.

"He's had the dreams too."

Frowning, Dean almost spoke, until Jessica walked past them. She stopped in front of Dean, smiling at him.

"When you see your mother, please tell her tonight was lovely. I'm sorry I can't tell her myself." she shrugged, her normally fluffy long blonde hair was up in a braid and so as a result her face wasn't hidden from his sight.

She looked sad, but resigned, like she had known this was coming for a long time, but had stuck around anyways.

Gabriel was looking at his feet, cheeks flushed red in embaressment. Jessica set her suitcase upright, then took the few steps towards the man. When he finally looked at her, she put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"Take care of him, Gabriel."

With that, she smiled, grabbed her suitcase, and went down the stairs.

Both of the men in the hallway watched her go. Heavy thudding steps came rushing down the stairs behind them, the ones leading up to the next floor. Within seconds, Sam came into sight. He had a look of terror on his face, and his chest was heaving. He wasn't out of breath, but he was panicked.

And then it was all calm.

Dean followed his little brothers line of sight, and saw his eyes were fixed on Gabriel.

"I'm going to go find Cas." he muttered, passing his brother and heading to his room. His boyfriend had mentioned wanting to read and curl up in bed for a while. Now was probably a good time to go join him.

Cas liked it when he stroked his spine and shoulders. It made him almost purr.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


End file.
